A Ferryman's Job
by madwriter223
Summary: Gene Hunt has been the Afterlife Ferryman for many many years. And truth be told, he is horribly tired.


AN: This takes place a lot of years after the Ashes to Ashes Finale.

**A Ferryman's Job**

Wasn't this just the sodding icing on the bloody cake. It took all of Gene's tiny patience not to kick his door in. The bloody thing always got stuck and Gene was too goddamn tired to deal with it.

He was just about to lift his leg for a good solid kick when the lock gave a quiet screech and the door opened. With a silent grumble the DCI stepped inside his crappy apartment, slamming the door behind himself. Which was probably why it got stuck so often.

In quick, long practiced moves, his clothes were off and thrown to the floor. His gun and badge went on his nightstand. A quick visit to the loo to take care of business and Gene was more than ready to slump in a boneless heap onto his rickety bed. Which he did, gladly.

And though his body felt more than ready to sleep for a fucking century, his thoughts wouldn't shut up, the damn buggers.

Work had been hectic lately. Apparently, all the crooks in the neighborhood decided this week would be the week for them to get rich. Burglaries, muggings, killings, gun robberies, shootings, drugs, hate crimes, domestic violence, you name it, chances are it happened this month at least five times. And through it all, he and his team had somehow managed to stay afloat. Bookings, interrogations, evidence and crime scene investigations were all done quickly, efficiently and the perps were found, caught and dealt with within two-three days. The Mayor was happy with them, Litton was spitting out of his ass and the press weren't printing shit about them for a change.

And truth be told, after all that, Gene felt useless. He barely had to do anything. Everything needed had been done before he even thought about it. All he had had to do was drive to the various scenes and not get shot before the perps were caught.

Even his second gig as an afterlife ferryman had apparently been taken over by the others. The team members dealt with themselves and each other without his help. Frustrations, doubts, fears, violent outbursts, crying jags and all that other emo shit; a team member was suffering from it, the others helped before Gene even noticed. It made him proud as all fuck that his team was now a self-sufficient entity.

On the other hand, he was just plain tired. He had been doing this ferryman schtick for who-the-fuck-knows how long. Years, definitely. Decades, certainly. Maybe even a century by now (he'd lost count). And now, finally, his ferrymanship wasn't that needed anymore. For the first time in however-bloody-long he'd been doing this, he felt that the souls he'd been charged with would get by without his help or prodding.

And finding himself something else to do to occupy his time was bloody annoying, not to mention draining. He just wanted to rest, and maybe tomorrow would be better.

His eyes finally slid closed, and his breathing evened out in deep sleep.

Gene sighed when Libby broke down crying. He hated this part. The moment when they remembered their own deaths. Everyone reacted differently, though they mostly followed one of three options – tears or anger or shock. The souls Gene was charged with all had had a bad end. He himself had a horrid one, though he no longer remembered the details. Or anything at all, come to think of it.

He took a deep breath and wished for a cigarette.

He looked away, giving the gall some privacy. It was always best to let them compose themselves before he dragged them off to the Railway Arms. Nelson had probably already gathered all her loved ones or some such rot, and they were all waiting.

He glanced at her watch and noticed it had finally moved on from the time-of-death position most personal watches tended to have. Time to go. Thankfully the bird had almost gotten herself under control again.

He walked up to her and grabbed her elbow, giving it a brief tug.

"Up you go. Lets go to the pub then, eh?"

Libby looked at him, expression incredulous. "You want to go to a pub _right now_?"

"Yup." Gene grinned crookedly and patted her back. "Come on. The pub is just round that corner."

Her brows knitted in confusion, but she slowly climbed to her feet. "No, it isn't."

"This one is." He gave her a pointed look. "And right now, it's open just for you."

Libby drew a shaky breath. "...Oh."

The Railway Arms was just where he knew it would be, never far away. And blue, he never did figure out why it had to be blue.

Libby stopped in the middle of the empty road, staring at the pub with apprehensive eyes.

Gene stopped in front of her and turned to face her. She'd always been a smart bint, able to figure out the weirdest riddles and cases. And nutjobs, she had a knack with the nutjobs. So he stayed quiet and waited for her to figure it out.

Libby didn't disappoint.

"Is that how it works? We remember who we were, how we... died. Then you bring us here and then we just... crossover?" Her upper lip jutted forward, like it always did when she was disgruntled about something.

Gene sniggered. "Yup. Everyone goes when they're ready." He cocked his head at her. "And you are ready."

Libby narrowed her eyes and took a step back. "No, I'm not." She shook his head firmly. "I can't go."

"Oh, don't be such a girl." Gene snorted and spread out his arms. "Everyone has to go when it's their time. This pub doesn't appear otherwise." He explained with a gentle expression. "It's time for you to go."

Libby still shook her head. "No, I can't. I can't just... just abandon everything. I finally got Bobby to agree to try swimming in the pool again. And Trish and Craig will get the files mixed up each time the regulations change even a little bit, you know they can't be left alone with that. And I've got that rape victim almost convinced to testify against that bastard. I can't just leave all my responsibilities and go." She sounded offended at the mere thought. "No, I am not crossing over. You can forget it."

Gene stared at her. Well, this was a first. Most went eagerly, but some did put up a token resistance. No one had resisted this firmly before.

He dimly heard the pub door open, and rubbed his forehead. "Libby. It's your time."

"How can you be so certain it is?" She argued, crossing her arms with a stubborn huff. "Maybe it's someone else's time."

"No one else is ready, you nitwit. Believe me when I say, I can tell when someone is or is not ready. It's in the bloody job description."

"Apparently your ready-radar is busted, because I am _not_." She swallowed thickly. "I can't, Gene. I have too much to do here."

She pursed her lips in a stubborn line and he growled at her. Damn uppity bint.

"Hey, there, Guv." A familiar voice sounded behind him and Gene nearly swallowed his tongue. "What's the hold-up?"

He whirled around, staring incredulously. "Sam?"

"Were you expecting the Doctor?" The nonce had to gall to laugh at him, and Gene grinned back.

"Good to see yah." He glanced at Libby. "And the hold up is cause the bird is dragging her feet."

"Uh huh." Sam didn't even look at her. "Except it's not for her, Gene." He paused, expression softening. "It's for you."

"It bloody well is not." His mouth said before his brain even finished processing that thought. He was the ferryman, he didn't go to _this_ pub. That was for those he ferried.

"It blood well is." Sam countered back with a grin. "Don't you think you've done enough?"

Gene scowled. "This gig is mine, you ponce. Or have you forgotten that?"

"It's not anymore. Even your time moves on." Sam spread his hands and shrugged. "It's your turn now, Guv."

Gene hesitated, then shook his head. "I can't go. Who'll take my place here?" As much as he was tired of everything, he had a rather important job to fulfill. Who would guide the souls otherwise?

"I will." Libby jumped at the chance, stubborn bird that she was. "That way I can stay here, right?"

"Do you even know what you're so eager to sign up on?" Gene demanded, glowering at her. "You really want to become the ferryman and be responsible for everything that happens to everyone around you? You'd have to deal with their problems and the law, twice the work. You'd have no one you can talk to about any of that shit. You'll be alone, the one constant thing in a sea of changing faces. You'd have to say goodbye to your best friends over and over, and it'll be your responsibility that they go." He glared at her. "You really think you're ready to face all that? For how ever many years it'll take?"

Libby swallowed, and her upper lip went forward again. "I will do my best to help people, like I've always done." She placed her hands on her hips and glared back. "It doesn't frighten me."

Gene gave her a long searching look, then chuckled. Fearless and stubborn. And she cared deeply about everyone in the department. Guess she fit the bill.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. "Nelson will show you the ropes." He whispered into her ear. "Like he showed me."

Libby frowned in confusion but nodded. "Enjoy the pub, Gene." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. "It has been wonderful meeting you. Knowing you. I will never forget you."

He huffed. "Yeah, you will." Time crawls by and washes away almost everything. Including who they had been before ending up here.

Sam wrapped his hand around Gene's wrist. He didn't squeeze nor tug, just held it. "Everyone is waiting, Guv." He said simply, then let go. Gene turned around and watched him _saunter_ towards the pub with his hands in his pockets, hips swinging.

"Bloody hell, can't you even walk like a normal person and not like a poof?" He called after him and went to the door. Sam laughed and waited patiently for Gene to turn the knob.

Gene Hunt stood in the open doorway and finally stepped through.

End


End file.
